The Making of a King
by Taywen
Summary: FE: SS. / "Jehanna. I want Jehanna," he told the Emperor. At Vigarde's side, Prince Lyon nodded in acceptance of his terms. / Written for the lj comm Magvel's prompt - 01: Royalty.


**Disclaimer**: FE does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Nintendo, etc.

**Notes**: Written for the challenge over at lj's Magvel community. The prompt was 'royalty'.

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><p><strong>The Making of a King<strong>

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><p>The first time Caellach sees a member of the royal family is during the wedding of Queen Ismaire and her husband.<p>

Five years old, perched on his father's shoulders to get a better view of the proceedings, Caellach is breathless with awe as the wedding procession travels by. He has never seen such rich things, fine silks, gleaming silver and gold, glittering precious gems.

The crowd of people are cheering for their young monarchs, the wedding as much a celebration for Jehanna's people as it is for Jehanna's royalty.

Caellach watches the beautiful procession until the last proud soldier disappears around the bend of the road.

"That will be me, one day," he tells his father seriously, with the earnest conviction of youth.

A stranger standing at their side laughs. "That's not how it works, kid. You're either born royalty, or ya marry into it. And ya gotta be a noble for that to happen."

Caellach scowls at the man. "That can't be true. I can do anything, if I want to! My dad says so," he snaps, annoyed. "Just wait, one day I'll be a King. You'll see!"

The stranger just shakes his head and laughs.

...

Caellach isn't so naive anymore. He knows that he cannot be a ruler, does not have that blessing of birth that so few people are bestowed.

The best Caellach can aspire to is becoming a top mercenary. With his forceful, aggressive nature, becoming a fighter for hire is really the only choice. He tried to get into the palace guard, or the army, but apparently he's too lowborn.

He'll show them, though. Caellach will become the best mercenary there is, and the general of the Jehanna army will be scrambling to hire him. They'll all come crying to him.

...

'Tiger's Eye' is what he goes by, now. Caellach isn't actually completely sure where the name came from, but it's proof that he has made a name for himself, that he is moving up in the world.

An obnoxious, arrogant noble says to him, "You mercenaries are a gold coin a dozen. You think you're special, Tiger's Eye? I can hire someone just as skilled as you, for far less."

Caellach has never been a patient, or particularly kind, man. He is proud, arrogant even, and does not take such insults well.

He has to flee Jehanna, pursued by the royal guard for his crime – murdering a prominent nobleman. The rest of his band dies on the way to Grado, loyal to the bone to a man who leaves them behind as fodder.

Caellach doesn't look back.

...

"Tiger's Eye – that's what they called you in Jehanna, isn't it?" a disgusting, greasy-haired man asks him in a dingy inn in Grado's capital.

Caellach narrows his eyes, glaring suspiciously at the man. He's dressed like a clergyman, yet he oozes sleaze and disrepute. A bounty hunter, perhaps? He grips the haft of his axe – steel, regrettably. He's not exactly raking in the money, now, and can't afford silver weaponry anymore.

"What's it to you?"

A sleazy smirk splits the man's face. Disgusting, it's disgusting, but Caellach is used to dealing with filth by now. (Always has been, if he's honest, since the time he was born in the slums of Jehanna's capital.) "The Emperor of Grado has need of someone with your talents, Caellach."

The way the man says his name sets his teeth on edge. "Really," he replies, flatly.

"Do I look like a liar?" the man asks, seemingly amused.

_Yes_. He doesn't bother replying.

"Emperor Vigarde can give you whatever you want, Caellach. You have only to accept his offer," the man continues. "Really – a man of your talents, wasting his time with a steel axe? What have you been doing, pray tell – construction work? Guarding petty merchants? You could be a general, Tiger's Eye."

In spite of himself Caellach thinks that General Tiger's Eye has a nice ring to it.

...

Selena, Duessel, Glen – they follow Vigarde out of some foolish, naive sense of loyalty.

Valter – to be honest, he sets Caellach's teeth on edge, proverbial hackles rising every time he makes eye contact with the man. Caellach thinks he might just be in this to watch the world burn, laughing.

And Riev – sleazebag extraordinaire – well, Caellach isn't too sure what's in it for the man who recruited him. Maybe he just gets a kick out of creeping on people; it doesn't really matter, in the end, so long as Caellach gets what he wants.

Caellach's reasons for following Vigarde are far simpler than stupid bonds of loyalty, and saner than wanting to indulge in the pure chaos of war: "Jehanna. I want Jehanna," he told the Emperor. At Vigarde's side, Prince Lyon nodded in acceptance of his terms.

...

Caellach breaks Frelia's Sacred Stone without a second thought. Really, it's almost ridiculous in its simplicity – little shards of iridescent rock scattering across the floor at his feet, one fifth of Magvel's divine protection destroyed in a matter of seconds.

_Is this what kings feel like_, he wonders, gazing down at the shattered remains, _do they feel like they hold the fate of the world in their hands?_

...

Caellach blazes back into Jehanna, taking a sadistic pleasure at the way his countrymen shrink away from his imposing figure, smirking at the way Carlyle – the worthless cur who barred him from entering the guard all those years ago, who probably doesn't even _remember_ – betrays his country, all for love of his Queen.

The best part is that Carlyle can do nothing beyond feebly protest as Caellach drags his love away.

He breaks Jehanna's in much the same manner as he did Frelia's, smiling at the pained gasp Queen Ismaire gives as she watches the integral part of her country's heritage shatter.

Revenge, Caellach has found, is infinitely satisfying.

"Jehanna is mine, now," he says. The words taste like victory.

...

The decision to burn the palace is definitely _not_ made with Caellach's knowledge, and he is positively seething when he sees the flames from his position outside.

"Whose bright idea was that!" he snarls at an accompanying mage, who shrinks away from him, stammering. Beheading the terrified man might give him some satisfaction, but Caellach decides it isn't worth it.

A palace isn't everything, just like blood isn't everything, when it comes to the making of a king, after all. Caellach can rebuild, improve upon the design – blaze an entirely new path in his own image, to reflect his might, to proclaim, _this land belongs to me._

He has no need to conform to an aged, outdated palace like generations of Jehannan royalty had done; he is better than that, above them all.

...

It's when he's lying bleeding in the burning sand of Jehanna's endless deserts that Caellach realizes the truth of it: the making of a king isn't in the palace, or the blood – or even the power and ambition of the king, like he once thought.

The making of a king is in the people.

The errant prince, Joshua, stands before him, Caellach's blood dripping from the blade of his sword. Isn't that a kick in the teeth, finding out that his old mercenary buddy Joshua was a genuine prince.

Caellach almost laughs at the irony, except, you know, he's bleeding out.

Alone, Caellach doubts that Joshua would have been able to defeat him, but a young, red-haired sage kept him pinned down with his magic while Gerik, his loyal bitch Marisa (other old mercenary acquaintances) and Joshua wore him down.

"I'll leave you to die, like you left my mother to die," Joshua says coldly.

Caellach does laugh, then, ignoring the burning pain in his chest. "Like _you_ left your mother to die," he calls after the departing prince, hating the sickening rasp of his voice and the blood wetting his lips.

"Enough, Caellach," Gerik says, looking down at him with what could be pity in his eyes, and somehow that is worse than anything Caellach has ever done, or had to endure, or–

Caellach doesn't close his eyes as the hero's blade descends.

_A bit more, and...a crown... would have been...mine..._

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><p>AN: Caellach's my favourite Grado general ~

... I don't have much else to add, except: feedback is greatly appreciated! :D


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